The Son cries out, but the Father does not answer (Mt. 27:46)

 

Nailed to the cross for our salvation, Jesus cries out to the Father, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  This is a painful cry of desolation that we hear from Jesus.  With these words, Jesus seems to express despair in the face of his suffering.  No wonder.  His cross is the culmination of a hellish tragedy, laden with deceit, infidelity, betrayal, ridicule and rejection.  

Religious and political leaders have falsely accused Jesus.  His dearest and closest friends have fled in fear.  The crowds have mocked him and spit on him.  He has suffered the indescribable cruelty of crucifixion.  He is physically and morally exhausted.  Every ounce of energy gone.  Even the heavens have darkened in solidarity.  Is there any wonder that Jesus cries out in agony, “My god, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Yet, these are not words of despair.  These are words of protest.  Jesus protests his sense of abandonment and neglect.  His entire mission has been to do the will of his heavenly Father.  This was his only food by which he carried out his mission, emptying himself for others, proclaiming God’s kingdom, and doing good works.  And, Jesus had some measure of success—gathering a band of faithful followers and inspiring crowds to embrace his message of love and hope.  And now this—the injustice of the crucifixion—and the stone, cold silence of God.  The Son cries out, but the Father does not answer.

The Evangelist “does not hesitate to show Jesus in the utter agony of feeling forsaken as he faces a terrible death” (R. Brown, 44).  At his lowest moment, Jesus cries out in unity with the whole human condition.  We can understand the anguished prayer of Jesus in the Garden where he prayed for this cup to pass from him.  No wonder that, in the depths of his suffering on the cross, Jesus now confronts God with his pleading—but God does not answer.  God is silent.

The contrast between Jesus on the cross and Jesus in the desert at the beginning of his public ministry is stark indeed.  Jesus in the desert declares his unwavering faith in God, and the angels immediately come to his aid.  Jesus on the cross has proven his faith in God to the last, and yet, no one comes to his aid, not even God it seems.  This contrast, this undeserved abandonment, this is the injustice that Jesus questions with his protest.  And yet, God is silent.

Perhaps the explanation lies in plain sight at the foot of the cross.  No one is there except his holy Mother and his beloved disciple, and the idle passersby who mock Jesus with sneering contempt.  All those who should have been there are nowhere to be found—his disciples, his supporters, his friends.  Even the women who had followed Jesus and ministered to him watched from a distance.  All those whom Jesus held near and dear had left him alone in his greatest need.  Because he was abandoned by all, Jesus felt abandoned even by God.  Are we surprised that this is what drives his question—why have you forsaken me?  Why have you left me alone?  Despite his sorrowful pleading, Jesus does not hear the Voice of Love.

Sad to say that a similar fate awaits many in today’s society.  When those who should care for us abandon us, we often feel abandoned by God.  When we abandon those for whom we should care, they feel abandoned by God.  This is especially true for those who cannot fend for themselves—the young, the old, the homeless, those without resources, the weak.  Those who are isolated from a web of love and support often have a deep sense of powerlessness.  When their pleas for help go unanswered, they often feel abandoned.  Eventually, they feel abandoned even by God.  If they do not hear us, they do not hear God.

This is a sad and terrible fate that the prophet Isaiah warns against (58:7).  Isaiah warns us not to turn our backs on our own, especially the vulnerable and those who suffer.  We are called to see the face of Christ in the sufferer, even in those whom we think deserve to suffer.  Our commitment to Christ compels us to respond to suffering with love.  There is no place for self righteousness in regard to the suffering of our neighbor.  We, the Samaritan of today, stop by the side of the road, not out of curiosity, but out of solidarity, availability, sensitivity, and a willingness to be effective in our help (Salvifici doloris, 28-29, John Paul II).

Although our immediate response to suffering is invariably one of protest, our love for Christ and for others compels us to discover anew the meaning of suffering, not on a human level, but on God’s level.  On God’s level, love becomes the most effective response and antidote to suffering of any kind, especially suffering from hatred, violence, cruelty, contempt, and insensitivity.  Through his own life and mission of love, Christ taught us to care for those who suffer and to seek the good with our own suffering.

Christ is our model and our protector.  He has been in the depths of our suffering.  The crucified Christ understands how we feel when faced with insurmountable odds.  He knows what it means to feel all alone and without help from anyone.  Jesus knows the feeling of exhaustion, the fear of never being able to succeed, the horrible doubt of not having done enough or the right thing.  He knows the pain and isolation like those who are divorced, addicted to drugs or alcohol, battered or raped, out of work and without resources.  Jesus knows the feeling of depression and chronic disability.  Jesus understands the silence of God.

With his own life, crucifixion, and death, Jesus shows us that we are not alone in these experiences.  Because of our mutual need for care and understanding, there is solidarity among those who suffer.  Because of Christ’s constant concern and love for each of us, there is also solidarity with him, who suffers with us each time we suffer.  For this reason, all suffering is holy and deserves reverence.

The Anglican poet Elizabeth Lavers gives voice to this solidarity and reverence in her poem, “Why hast Thou forsaken me?”  Her loving verse of four stanzas with four lines each is a fitting reflection on our way of the cross:

Rejected and set apart

To hang between earth and sky,

Straight from his anguished heart

Comes this dreadful cry.

 

His spirit wearies now.

Forsaken and alone.

Bearing, I can’t tell how,

Our sins, not his own.

 

No voice to wish him well.

No milestone or mark

In all the bleak wastes of Hell,

All the freezing dark.

 

Now that he nears death’s gate

I must not turn away.

But I weep for him, desolate.

And try to pray.

A Defense of Love (Jn 10:31-42)

 

The need for Jesus to defend himself against a charge of blasphemy is hard to imagine.  Yet, Jesus does exactly this by reminding the crowds of the “many good works” he has done in his Father’s name.  He says to them with a sense of urgency, “Believe the works, so that you may realize and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father” (Jn 10:38).  The crowds interpret this to mean that Jesus is asserting equality with God, and so they levy the charge of blasphemy “because you, being a man, make yourself God” (10:33).

The unity between Father and Son acknowledged by Jesus is not an exclusive relationship.  Jesus intends this same relationship of unity for all those who believe in him and follow his way.  Towards the end of his mission, in fact, Jesus prays that all those who believe in him will be one with him and the Father, just as he and the Father are one (Jn 17:20-22).  Jesus invites us to become one with God by believing in him and imitating his good works.

Because the crowds do not understand or perceive the unity that Jesus speaks of, they do not see the good works of Jesus as coming from the God the Father.  Thus, they persist in their charge and want to stone Jesus for his claim that he and the Father are one (Jn 10:30).  Their charge of blasphemy in effect amounts to a denial of their own roots.  The Israelites were God’s chosen people, who had agreed to follow his laws and commandments. 

From their study of the prophets alone, the crowds who accused Jesus had to know that their covenant with God required them to do good by defending the rights of the poor and the oppressed, to seek justice, to take up the cause of the fatherless, and to plead the case of the widow (Is 1-17).  Their study would also have revealed “what is good and what the Lord requires—to do justice, love goodness, and walk humbly with God (Mic 6:8).  No wonder Jesus is bewildered by their inexcusable failure to recognize him as the promised Messiah by virtue of his own good works, let alone union with God as their true destiny.

In light of the many scripture passages that reveal who Jesus is and what he was about, the question remains: why was the crowd so blind to Jesus?  Familiarity breeds contempt, as the saying goes.  Perhaps the crowd did not accept Jesus because they knew his parents, where he was from, and what he did for a living.  Or, perhaps it was simply because Jesus did not fit the mold of who they expected to lead them in the way of holiness.  After all, Jesus himself noted that a prophet has no honor in his native place and in his own house (Mt 13:56-57).  Thus, being rejected for his way of life and good works was not something new to Jesus.

Despite the offense that many took at what he did or said, Jesus remained steadfast in his teaching that loving God and loving others is the ground and motivation for all good works (Mt 22:37-40).  Jesus expected his followers to let the light of their good works shine before others, so that others may see the good works that they do and give glory to God (Mt 5:16). 

Those of us today learn how to apply the principle of love in many ways, sometimes from an unexpected teacher and through unexpected sources.  In any case, our prayer this Lenten season is to let the love and fidelity of Christ be the guide posts of our own lives.  When we allow the values of Christ to determine the shape and character of our lives and what we do, we can face whatever challenges and criticism come our way.  This way of life then enables us to find “favor and esteem before God and human beings” (Prov 3:3-4).

A Clash in Values (Jn 8:21-30)

Jesus calls attention to a clash in values when he compares his values to those of the Pharisees.  Jesus says, “I belong to what is above; You belong to this world.”  He said this because the Pharisees determined the value of all matters by appearance alone.  They had little or no appreciation for anything with lasting value.  Thus, their focus was not on pleasing God, but on gaining material wealth, social status, and political power. 

For the Pharisees, enough was never enough.  Jesus thus warned them that their way of life driven by worldly values alone will result in spiritual death.  They will die in their sins and remain beyond the reach of Jesus.  By the time they realize their error, it will be too late.  They will look for Jesus, but not find him.

The fundamental error of the Pharisees was their failure to understand who Jesus is and the purpose of his mission.  Despite the revelation that Jesus himself made in that regard, the Pharisees did not believe or accept that Jesus was the one sent by God, and that following him was the way to life in the fullest sense (Jn 5:26).  They failed to perceive that the only motivation and guiding value for all that Jesus did was to carry out the will of the heavenly Father (Jn 10:10; 6:38-40).  No wonder the Pharisees did not bother to learn what was pleasing to God, or that doing so was even possible (Eph 5:8-10).

Nor is it any wonder that the Pharisees failed to adopt the fundamental value embraced by Jesus—love of God and love of neighbor.  This dual principle was not something new introduced by Jesus, but a basic commandment already contained in the Old Testament (Dt 6:5. Lev 19:18).  The Pharisees were scholars who specialized in interpreting and applying the Torah to daily life.  Thus, they would have been familiar with this dual principle as a guide for authentic worship of God.  Their failure compounded their predicament.

As a result, the Pharisees failed to see that love of God and love of neighbor are an essential aspect of justice.  They did not appreciate that the justice of God is not a matter of settling wrongs, but a matter of restoration for those who suffer the lack of a basic necessity.  This is the whole point of the sermon on the mount.  The beatitudes are a guide for virtuous living that will bring about such restoration—mercy, peace, and a longing to correct injustice.

The prophet Micah makes this same point when he claims that the Lord requires justice and a love of kindness for right living (Mic 6:8).  For Micah, right living is the only way “Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; justice and peace will kiss each other.  Faithfulness will spring up from the ground, and justice will look down from the sky” (Ps 85:10-11; 89:14).

In practical terms, we honor the justice of God through service to his children and his creation.  This is the consistent theme of all that Jesus preached.  He informs his followers that he came to serve, not to be served.  He tells them that they must not lord it over others, that the greatest among them must be the least, the one who washes the feet of the others.

These are the values of Jesus rejected by the Pharisees.  Jesus is the obedient Son who is one with the father and does the father’s will.  He tells his followers that they must live in the same manner.  Those who love Jesus will keep his commandments, and he and the father will abide in them.  Their treasure for following Jesus in this way is not silver or gold, but an everlasting life of peace and joy in an intimate relationship with God.

 

His Friends Know Him (Jn 7:1-2, 10, 25-30)

 

If someone were to ask us whether we know someone, we could answer yes or no without hesitation.  That’s because we think we know what it means to know someone, that is, until someone asks us what it means to know anything, let alone someone in particular.  Then, we are hard pressed to come up with a general explanation that fits the bill.  We often think we know someone because we know things about that person.  We know their name; we can pick them out of a crowd; we know where they live and where they work.  Then, they do or say something that makes us realize we don’t really know them at all. 

This was the experience of those who were with Jesus as he taught in the temple.  They thought they knew Jesus because they recognized him and knew things about him.  They knew his name and where he was from.  They even knew that the Jewish authorities had rejected him as the expected Christ, and for that reason, wanted to kill him.  These were things that the people knew about Jesus until he did the unexpected.  Then, they realized they did not know him at all. 

Jesus exposed their lack of knowledge by pointing out what they didn’t know.  They didn’t know, for example, that he was sent by God and therefore his mission was of divine origin.  Even worse, they didn’t even know God the Father.  Thus, they did not know the truth about their own destiny.  Because they did not know Jesus, they wanted to arrest him. 

If the many who saw and heard Jesus in the temple did not really know him, how do we, who ordinarily have never seen or heard Jesus, know him?  Thomas and Phillip expressed a similar concern at the Last Supper.  After the meal, Jesus informed the disciples that he was leaving to prepare a place for them. Thomas wanted to know where he was going and how to get there.  We know the response of Jesus. 

Jesus says to Thomas that following him is the way to the Father.  In fact, following Jesus is the only way because no one comes to the Father except through Jesus (Jn14:6-7).  Phillip remains skeptical.  He presses Jesus further and wants to see the Father as proof positive.  Show us the Father and that will be enough, he says to Jesus.  Jesus makes it plain to Phillip that anyone who sees Jesus sees the Father (Jn 14:8-9). 

All of which shows us that we get to know Jesus in the same way we get to know anyone.  We encounter Jesus.  We meditate on the gospels.  We spend time with him, listen to him, try to understand him, what he is about, and what he expects from us.  In our encounter, we reveal ourselves to Jesus.  We tell him our hopes, our dreams, our fears, and we ask him questions, just like we would with our closest friend.  Peter makes exactly this point when he tells us to cast all of our cares on God because God cares for us (1 PT 5:7).

We have help from the Holy Spirit, who speaks to us in a special way through prayer, scripture, and sacrament (Jn 14:26).  We also come to know Jesus through those we encounter in our daily lives—friend and foe alike—but especially through his other beloved children who follow his way.  We come to know Jesus perhaps best during those private moments of personal encounter and conversation with him.  Knowing Jesus is to become his friend.  We can be sure that he then makes known to us, his friends, all that he has heard from his Father (Jn 15:15).

Love What He Loves (Mt 12:28-34)

 

For the ancient Israelites, sacrificing animals on the altar of God was done out of devotion and a foundational commitment to the law.  This ritual also served as the primary means of atoning for sins. This is the background for the conclusion reached by the scribe who wanted to know which is the greatest commandment.  The scribe concludes that love of God and love of neighbor are worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.  Jesus affirms the validity of this conclusion when he says that, “the whole law and the prophets depend on these two commandments” (Mt 22:40). 

Putting it this way, however, does not make love of God and love of neighbor two separate commandments, each to be carried out in one way or another.  Rather, they are reciprocal commandments such that we love God by loving what he loves—his children and his creation.  This reciprocity inspires St. John to claim that no one can say, “I love God, but hate his brother…for whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen.  This is the commandment that we have from him.  Whoever loves God must also love his brother” (1Jn 4:20-21).  Loving God and loving our neighbor are two sides of the same coin.

Love binds us to each other and to God in a dynamic, interconnected relationship.  The result is that whatever we do for the least of his children, we do to and for God himself.  This is the point Jesus makes when he says that “As long as you did it for…the least of my children, you did it for me.”  This is how Jesus equates Himself with each of us as the true object of love.  He unites the “whole human race to Himself as a family through a supernatural solidarity” (Congar).  From that point on, charity becomes the chief mark of discipleship.  All shall know who the disciples of Jesus are by their love for one another (Jn 13:35).

The prophet Isaiah reveals a basic aspect of love for one another when he addresses the kind of fasting that God wants:  “…releasing those bound unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke; setting free the oppressed, breaking every yoke; sharing our bread with the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and the homeless; clothing the naked when we see them, and not turning our backs on our own" (Is 58:6-7).  Isaiah makes plain that loving God means treating his children with justice, respect, and dignity.  We open our hearts and our resources without judgment to those in need, especially our family members (Jl 2:12-13).

We are all equals in a sense because we all need love and concern.  Being loved and loving others is how we survive and thrive in this world.  We are therefore all the least of God’s children in one way or another, at one time or another.  For that reason, love is the overarching moral principle and measure of all that we do to and for each other.  In the words of St. Paul, we are equal “citizens with the holy ones and members of the same household of God” (Ep 2:19).  This is why Jesus invites each of us to express love and compassion for all those in our lives, in our communities, and in the world, especially the least of his children.  

False Gods and True Prophets (Mk 12:1-12; Mt 21:21-46; Lk 20:9-19)

 

The many parables of Jesus served to challenge his audience, especially when their treatment of others jeopardized their participation in the kingdom of God.  The parable of the vineyard is no exception.  This story indicts the chief priests and Pharisees for their unjust and cruel treatment of the prophets who came before Jesus.  The parable also reveals their murderous intentions toward Jesus.  For that reason, the parable ends with a prediction of their ultimate doom.

The failure of the Pharisees was that they did not remain faithful to the one true God.  Instead, they embraced the false god of power and control.  Their illusion resulted in care for the vineyard being given to others.  Today, we realize this responsibility belongs to all those who live in the Spirit of Christ.  Care for the vineyard, that is, care for all of God’s children, is a task for us today as much as it was for those who followed Jesus during his time on earth. 

Since the kingdom of God is not a place in time and space, but the end result of living out the dual principle of love for God and neighbor, Jesus renews his call to follow his way for all generations.  His call remains relevant due to the persistent temptation to reject the true God and follow a false god.  The colossal number of false gods vying for our devotion in today’s milieu makes the call to follow Jesus even more compelling. 

In a sense, Jesus calls us to be his prophets.  A prophet is one who bears witness.  Thus, we are all called to be a prophet of Christ today by virtue of our baptism.  Through baptism, Jesus calls each of us in a special way to bring his message of love and mercy to those around us.  This is the motivation for his instruction to “…make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Mt 28:18-20).  Each of us answers that call in our own unique way.  In all cases, however, our answer is a sacrament of service that brings the saving presence of Christ to others.

The Holy Spirit works through our service to awaken faith born of an encounter with Christ.  We give witness to Christ as his prophets by loving others in his name.  In turn, we can be sure of receiving the promise Jesus made when he said: “Everyone who acknowledges me before others, I will acknowledge before my heavenly Father” (Mt 10:32).  This is our calling.  Our prayer this Lenten season is for the Holy Spirit to help us make good on our calling to be a prophet for Christ.

Revelation and Change Through Encounter (Lk 9:28-36)

 

Many of us have been changed by an encounter with someone or by some event, at times in a profound way.  Such events in our lives are usually not as dramatic as what happened to Peter, James, and John, but they remind us of their experience.  These disciples were profoundly changed by their encounter with Jesus during his transfiguration on the mountain.  Something similar happened to Moses and Elijah during their mountain top experiences as well.  All three stories have meaning for us today because they are about revelation and change through encounter.

The transfiguration of Moses, for example, takes place on Mt. Sinai where the Lord speaks to him and forms a covenant with the Israelites (cf. Ex 34).  During this encounter, the power of God shines on Moses and he is transfigured.  His face becomes radiant because God empowers Moses to speak on his behalf.  Moses is to proclaim the covenant in terms of God’s patience and mercy due to his fidelity and boundless love for his people.

When Moses comes down from the mountain, Aaron and the others see the shining face of Moses, but do not recognize him.  They run away in fear.  Only after Moses calls out to them and they recognize his voice do they listen to him.  They listen because Moses has authority to speak for God, and therefore they agree to do all that God commands through Moses.  For Moses and the Israelites, this is revelation and change through encounter!

Centuries later, Elijah runs and hides on Mount Sinai out of fear for his life.  He believes he failed as a prophet despite his preaching because the Israelites have rejected God.  Now, they want to kill Elijah just as they had killed the prophets who came before.  On the mountain, Elijah looks for consolation from God, but has trouble finding him.  Then, Elijah hears a faint sound and knows he hears the voice of God (I Kings 19:11-12).  God challenges Elijah to go back without fear to finish the work he had been given.  Elijah agrees and returns to the Israelites as a courageous and faithful servant.  For Elijah, this is revelation and change through encounter!

Peter, James and John also react with fear when they see Jesus transfigured on the mountain, but they do not run away.  Rather, they remain steadfast in their faith and trust in Jesus.  Such courage motivates Peter’s proposal to build three tents.  Peter’s inspiration is the Ark of the Covenant used during the Exodus to house the indwelling presence of God.

Peter’s proposal shows that he and the other disciples know they are in the presence of God.  As witnesses to the transfiguration of Jesus, they come to understand that Jesus is God made present.  They also realize that Jesus is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, as symbolized by the appearance of Moses and Elijah.  For the disciples, this is revelation and change through encounter!

The voice heard near the end of the transfiguration is an echo of the voice heard at the baptism of Jesus: “This is my chosen Son.  Listen to him” (Lk 9:36; Mt 17:5).  This declaration not only reveals the divinity of Jesus by virtue of his relationship to the Father.  It also connects the two experiences of baptism and transfiguration in the person of Jesus. 

This same connection occurs at our own baptism as well.  In baptism, we are formally identified as the beloved of God and welcomed into his family.  We are transformed into a distinguished child of God within our faith community.  Our baptism is thus an encounter that reveals we are loved by God and formally called to love others in his name.  For each of us, baptism is revelation and change through encounter!

Like the Israelites of long ago who had good reason for listening to Moses and his revelation from the “old mountain,” we too have good reason for listening to Jesus and his revelation from the “new mountain.”  Moses spoke on the authority that God granted him, while Jesus speaks on his own authority.  Jesus is therefore the Word of God that must be heard and taken seriously.  When we recognize and listen to the Word of God, and allow that Word to transform our hearts and our way of living, we can expect nothing less than revelation and change through encounter.

There is a difference worth noting, however, between the mountain top experience of Jesus compared to the mountain top experience of Moses and Elijah.  Moses and Elijah each went up the mountain alone, while Jesus took with him three of his closest friends.  They were his friends because they had already come to believe and trust in Jesus.  By asking them to accompany him up the mountain, Jesus shows that he likewise trusts and believes in them and wants to share with them his most private encounter with God.  The disciples and Jesus go together as a faith community.  In and through this community, the disciples experience the transfiguration of Jesus as the presence of God in their lives.

For us today, Lent is an invitation to “go up to the Lord’s mountain, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may instruct us in his ways” (Is 2:3).  Our journey up the mountain to God’s house of prayer is one that we do not take alone, however.  We journey with others in a faith community.  In our community, the faith of others strengthens our faith, and in turn, our faith strengthens theirs.  Together, we encounter the transfigured Jesus through Word and sacrament to become one with Jesus and one with each other.  United in community, we come to know and experience the love of God, and we are lifted up and made joyful (Is 56:7).  We are transformed into trusted companions of Jesus who longs for his faithful servants to share in his love and union with God.  Life in a faith community is nothing less than revelation and change through encounter!

Not So Fast (Mt 9:14-15)

 

The disciples of John pose a serious question to Jesus about fasting.  Their question reflects a desire to better understand fasting itself.  Why do they fast, but the disciples of Jesus do not?  Jesus gives his typical enigmatic response that couches fasting in the context of mourning.  When he is gone, his disciples will indeed fast, for they will mourn his absence.  We only grieve a loss, so for us today, what is the loss that motivates our fasting during Lent? 

In spiritual terms, we give up something to lose our preoccupation with the physical realm so as to gain a deeper experience and understanding of our spiritual destiny.  In other words, the aim of fasting today is to connect with God in a more authentic, meaningful way.  For this reason, fasting has a long-standing place of honor among the three traditional practices of Lent that have the same purpose.  The other two are prayer and almsgiving.  Jesus has had something to say about how to practice all three. 

When it comes to fasting, for example, Jesus advises those who fast to look fresh and avoid the appearance of fasting.  Then, the father who sees what is hidden will repay what is hidden (Mt 6:16-18).  The prophet Isaiah has more to say about authentic fasting. 

Isaiah says on behalf of the Lord, "This…is the fasting that I wish:  releasing those bound unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke; setting free the oppressed, breaking every yoke; sharing your bread with the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and the homeless; clothing the naked when you see them, and not turning your back on your own" (Is 58:6-7).  In other words, we are to open our hearts to those who need us most, most especially our family members (Jl 2:12-13). 

In regard to prayer, when the disciples ask Jesus to teach them how to pray, he provides what has become the classic model for genuine prayer.  The Lord’s Prayer is a loving and beautiful way to talk openly and honestly with our heavenly Father.  This prayer joins us together in praying for the coming of God's kingdom, for the fulfillment of our needs, and for the forgiveness of our sins.  The Lord’s prayer provides a theological summary of how we are to conduct ourselves in relation to God and to each other.

Jesus himself often went out alone to a secluded place and prayed to his heavenly Father (Lk 5:16; 6:12).  Rarely is the content of his prayer revealed to us, however.  What we do know suggests that, during his prayer, Jesus spoke openly and honestly with his heavenly Father, holding back nothing.  Since he came to do the Father’s will, we can be sure that Jesus spent time in prayer discerning what that might involve and what he must do.  We can do no better than to follow the example of Jesus in our own prayer life.

Jesus also spoke to his disciples about almsgiving.  He offered them the parable of the widow’s mite to illustrate the right attitude in giving money to the poor.  This story makes it clear that the amount of money given is not what counts, but the sincerity of heart with which it is given.  The Psalmist offers another way to apply this practice: "Blessed is he that considers the needy and the poor" (Psalm 40:2).

Notice that the Psalmist says “considers” rather than “gives” to the needy and the poor.  This suggests that almsgiving is more than giving money to the poor.  Almsgiving includes anything done out of genuine charity and sincerity of heart for those in need.  In that sense, every time we support a public policy, for example, or promote a personal practice that addresses the needs of the poor is almsgiving.  In fact, every deed done to benefit our neighbor in the name of Christ is a form of almsgiving.

Fasting, prayer, and almsgiving are three traditional Lenten practices that can be applied in many ways.  All it takes is a little imagination—and a simple prayer…sprinkled with a little fasting perhaps…polished off with some sort of almsgiving.